


The Lone Defender

by Sophtopus



Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Dusttale (Undertale), Dusttale Sans (Undertale), Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-22
Updated: 2021-02-19
Packaged: 2021-03-14 04:09:21
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 5
Words: 12,652
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28914393
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sophtopus/pseuds/Sophtopus
Summary: December 25, 2015Mysterious black briars destroyed the whole of Ebott. Every inhabitant was lost except for a pair of brothers. Not long after, a tragedy claimed the younger one.Since then, the sole survivor did everything he could to prevent the calamity from spreading further.This story will use the following three premises:- Soulless Post Pacifist- Post Apocalypse- Modern FantasyThis work is distinctly not the regular Dust Tale. It is an AU that strives to create a similar result using a path vastly different from the original. If you're looking for the true original, please go to their Tumblr blog at http://ask-dusttale.tumblr.com
Comments: 19
Kudos: 18





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Aforementioned Japanese version is in this link:
> 
> https://archiveofourown.org/works/29008152
> 
> or use Pixiv if you prefer
> 
> https://www.pixiv.net/novel/show.php?id=14604089

September 15, 2020.

Crows, ravens, and buzzards circled around in the fair late summer sky. It was a mixed flock, all congregating at a single spot in the woods.

That can only mean one thing: dead humans.

Again and again, they try.  
Again and again, they die.

When the local arrived at the scene, it was as grisly as he expected.

Blood soaked into the forest floor.  
Entrails hung from the branches.  
Broken bones impaled the trees.  
Chunks of flesh and organs mixed into the dead leaves, becoming a buffet for the scavenging birds.

A rounded, forest-camouflage helmet stuck out of the ground, defeating the purpose of its existence. The local picked it up for a closer look.

It’s the military again. Didn’t seek permission either. They decided to go ahead with their plan without the local guide’s expertise. Well, they would have just gotten a ‘nope’ for an answer anyway.

The local heard a faint shuffle in the leaves. Eastwards. Had the carnage already attracted boars? They’re the absolute worst to deal with.

Or… it could be a survivor. That would bring a fresh breath of air to an otherwise monotonous job.

He headed East to investigate. Not too far from the initial site, he found a human soldier crawling across the forest floor. 

Although hopeful at first, disappointment soon took over. One look and the local knew that poor human won’t be alive for long.

Nonetheless, he decided to be by this dying man’s side. Was it on a whim? Duty? Mercy? It didn’t matter.

He said: “Hey.”

The soldier stopped crawling. “…A… a person?… Thank god… I thought I’m going to be eaten alive. Help me… please…”

“Can’t do that,” so was the reply. “Your insides have become outsides. Everything past your belly is completely gone.”

“…Oh… No wonder. I thought my legs were just broken.”

“Can’t even feel pain anymore, huh? You’re definitely at death’s door. Might as well keep you company until you’re ready.”

The local sat down next to the dying soldier. It’s not very comfortable for a human to lie on their front, so he took the effort to flip him around.

The soldier immediately recognized his visitor. With a happy smile, the human said: “Two-coloured eyes… A blue and white hoodie… red scarf… It’s you. ‘Dust, The Lone Defender’.”

Being called by that identity irritated him a bit. “Tsk, is that all I’m known for nowadays? Whatever happened to ‘Sans the Comedian’?”

“Who?” There was genuine confusion in the soldier’s voice.

The local named ‘Dust’ sighed. “Forget it. So. Any last words?”

“Are you a necromancer?”

One blink. Two blinks. Then, Dust burst into an amused laughter. “You’re dying, kid. And that’s your big question?”

“Yeah… Because, I’m a practitioner too.”

That was an unexpected twist. “Huh. I thought human society wiped that art out a long time ago.”

“…As the saying goes: ‘fight poison with poison’… We’re kept for special cases…”

It appears that the modern military had always integrated parts of the ancient ways in their ranks. Makes one wonder how many modern versions of ‘Warriors’, ‘Paladins’, and ‘Mages’ exist.

Could that be the reason why there were no corpses left behind? Not important for Dust anyway. His tactics wouldn’t change with this knowledge.

Still, he chose to entertain the soldier’s query. “Eh, I guess you’re kinda right. Assassin-Necromancer combo, y’know. I’ve specced all of my points into Soul-related skills. Can’t do the puppet stuff.”

“…That’s even better.” With a contented serenity, the young soldier said: “Mister Dust… I’m offering my life to you. Please, kill me.”

Dust raised a brow. “Funny that you didn’t offer your SOUL.”

The young man laughed for the last time in his short life. “Haha. No way. A SOUL Fusion is the worst idea. They never end well.”

“A method so forbidden that the forbidden arts forbid it, huh? Welp. That’s life.”

Dust removed the chest armour first. Those things were made to withstand ballistics and any other piercing methods. He could rely on Karma’s disintegrating poison, but that would inflict needless pain on the victim.

Then, he stood up and took a few steps back. He summoned a sharpened bone over where the soldier’s heart would be. The tool was covered in magic glyphs, a clear indicator that it wasn’t a plain old magic attack.

Just to make sure, he asked, “Any extra last words, kid?”

it was the following: “Thank you, Mister Dust. It’s an honour to meet you.” 

“Okay, sure. Goodbye.”

The glyphic bone plunged into the heart. Its words shone bright red, converting blood into ribbons of life and magic. Dust stretched his hand to draw them straight into his being.

In three seconds, it was over. The human’s remains turned as white as snow. Then, it crumbled to dust. His gear, bag, armour, and clothes were left behind.

Under normal circumstances, humans rot into a putrid mess. But with this life-draining magic, they disintegrate straight into dust. That was one of the many reasons why ‘Dust’ became his new name.

Perhaps the two species were not that different after all.

He went over to pick up the bag. Solo survival was tough and tiring; he’ll need every free food and tools he could get.

Winds began to blow through the woods, carrying what remained of the dead into the sky.

The man looked up towards the clouds.

“Y’know, kid. If I was a better person, friend, and brother… You didn’t need to die out here. So, don’t honour me.”

Hanging his head low, he pulled his hood back into place.

“Don’t forgive me either.”

In a blink, the Lone Defender vanished from the site of death…


	2. Chapter 2

December 25, 2015.

In a cozy home on a quaint farm, a young human farmer had invited a pair of skeleton monsters for a Christmas dinner together.

While they waited for the cooking to be done, both sides introduced themselves. 

The taller skeleton with a red, tattered scarf placed a hand on his chest. “Greetings, human! I’m Papyrus.”

Showing his hand to the shorter skeleton, he introduced. “And this is my elder brother, Sans.”

“Hi,” said Sans. “Thanks for inviting us in.”

The young straw-haired farmer reached out his hand. “I’m Stephan Conroy. Nice to meet you.”

“Stephan Conroy?” Papyrus asked, “Do you have two names instead of one? Or is it one of those ‘family names’ like our former King Asgore Dreemurr?”

The man blinked at the question in confusion. Knowing a human would be puzzled, Sans explained, “We didn’t have any extra bells and whistles.”

“Ah, I see. Then, the latter. Stephan is my given name.”

Papyrus nodded. “That’s settled then, Mister Stephan! Well, let’s get to business. Do you need help with any chores? Maybe… chop some wood? Babysit your child? Fix the roof? I’m very good with construction, I’ll have you know.”

“Actually, I would like to have a chat.” Showing his hand towards the fireplace, Stephan invited the brothers to sit down by the warmth. “Please, sit down.”

The three men gathered by the burning yule logs. Within the field of their orange glow, the farmer asked a question in a hushed, serious tone. “Are there truly no other survivors?”

The brothers lowered their heads in silence.

Papyrus was the first to respond. “No one answered my phone calls. Not even Undyne.”

“Yup,” he said, “My brother dialed all the numbers until the batteries ran out.”

Stephan then asked, “How did you two survive?”

“By sheer luck and speed,” Sans replied. “We were out of town to buy ingredients for a turkey dinner. Y’know, the bird that’s in your oven right now. Hell broke loose while we were on the road. Saw the whole of Ebott get overrun by gigantic black thorns.”

“Indeed,” Papyrus affirmed. “Good thing I had the sense to make a U-turn and drive like my life depended on it! And that is how we wandered into your wonderful farmhouse.”

Sans looked at the direction of the farmhouse window. It had its curtains drawn, preventing him from looking outside. “I’m not complaining, but… are you sure we should be having a Christmas dinner right now? Your farm is not that far away from ground zero, y’know. That giant briar bush isn’t going to lay dormant forever.”

This time, it’s the human that lowered his head. “I have nowhere to go either. I’m out here because I’m bankrupt. My uncle gave this property to me so I could have a fresh start. If I lose this place, I’m as good as dead.”

The brothers started to sweat from that equally dire news.

“Wowie, I thought we’re the only ones suffering a huge calamity.” Papyrus pumped his arm and patted his imaginary biceps. “All the more why The Great Papyrus offers his strong arms to help you! Nyeh heh heh!”

“Yup.” Sans added, “It’s the least we could do to repay you.”

Gosh, you guys are too kind! I mean, I thought my family will have to make do with potatoes and bacon for Christmas. If you insist though… how about doing the dishes?”

“Dishes it shall be, nyeh! I bet we’re gonna have a lot of cleaning to do after such a scrumptious feast.”

“A deal’s a deal!”

The three of them shared a hearty laugh together. They’re precious in dire times.

* * *

December 26, 2015.

The brothers packed up the last of their camping gear into the boot of Papyrus’ red car. Stephan, his wife, and his little daughter watched on with sadness on their faces.

“Do you really have to go?” he asked. “You’re welcomed to stay. I’ll even make you my farmhands.”

Sans shook his head. “Sorry, no can do. We need to start operations while that giant briar bush still sleeps.”

Papyrus added, “Besides, we also need to search for survivors! Who knows which cold, starving soul requires a timely rescue?”

“I see…” Stephan forced himself to smile. “Then, good luck. If you need anything, don’t hesitate to visit me.”

They waved goodbye and drove towards the destination of their mission.

The first half of the day was spent just shoveling the snow, pitching the tent, and making sure everything was secure.

By the time they were done, the sun had set across the horizon.

The brothers walked at the edges of the town ruins with lanterns in their hands. Black briars had entangled every building. Their tendrils paid no respect to windows, wood, and concrete. They were smashed all the same.

Heavy snowfall had blanketed the carnage, hiding the apocalypse that happened just a week ago. Everything seemed so quiet and peaceful.

“Hello???” Papyrus hollered. “Is anyone there???”

Only his own echo returned his call.

The younger brother decided, “Sans, we need to go inside. Maybe they can’t hear us.”

Just as he was about to step forward, the elder brother grabbed him by the arm.

“Wait.” Sans pointed towards a nearby shop. It had a flickering half-broken light. “See that, Papyrus? The town is still powered. The snow would have covered any possible live wires. It’s too dangerous to search the interiors right now.”

Realising the problem, Papyrus frowned. “…You’re right. That means we have to shut down The Core first.”

“Yup. We could get there if we trek from the opposite side of town. Go through the untamed forest and up the mountain. Then, head to the east-facing side to access the entrance to the Underground.”

“What about the other entrance? The one that Frisk and the other children fell from? It’s somewhere in the southwest, right? That’s on the way to our trek. If a child could survive the fall, maybe it’s not such a big drop down to The Ruins.”

Hearing Frisk’s name inflicted a strange tightness on Sans’ chest. He wheezed. Staggered backwards. Fortunately the younger brother caught his fall.

“Sans!” Papyrus exclaimed in worry. “Are you alright?”

“I… I don’t know. That was weird.”

After some contemplation, Papyrus decided to carry Sans in his arms. “I think we should head back to camp for now. You seem tired.”

Sans asked, “What about the search?”

“I can’t let anything bad happen to my only brother.”

“Oh, okay. Heh, bro. You’re the coolest.”

“I know, nyeh heh heh!”

* * *

December 28, 2015.

Shutting down the magical electricity generator was easy enough. Sans knew the shortcuts, and Papyrus had the physical fitness for quick travel.

The difficult part was the search itself.

Day after day, their efforts yielded nothing. They had found many broken items and torn clothes… but not a single survivor.

In front of Asgore’s house, what’s left of Undyne lay impaled under a pillar of thorns. She tried to defend her father figure to the very end.

Papyrus’ trembling hands scooped up her eyepatch from the snow. He tried not to cry, but he couldn’t stop the tears from trickling down his face.

Sans stood by his brother and consoled him. Together, they shared a moment of silence for the fallen.

It’s best to not stay around for long though. They have limited daylight. Sans patted his brother on the shoulder, saying. “Wait here for a moment. I’m going to search the house.”

He teleported past the thorn-blocked entrance. Ever since they shut off the electricity, ice had encroached the interiors of the flower king’s home.

Sans immediately checked every bookshelf and desk drawer. He even checked under the bed. He found mostly nature-related books… none of which was what he sought for.

He teleported out of the house to meet up with Papyrus again.

“Did you find it, Sans?”

“Nope. That worries me. Asgore swore on his crown to keep that particular book hidden away.”

“Well…” Papyrus glanced to the ground. “He doesn’t have a crown anymore. Maybe he thought people are allowed to read that book again?”

“You have a point.” Sighing, Sans rubbed his forehead in anxiety. “Talk about going from bad to worse. Now I have no idea where it could be.”

Being the brother with bright ideas, the younger one suggested: “Maybe we should check Toriel’s house! Frisk lived with her, right? They visited Asgore often too.”

“…I guess a kid may have come to the same conclusion as I did. At first glance, it would have read like a worldbuilding fantasy guidebook. Except, it being real and all.”

“Would you call it a science book then?”

“Yup. Magic science if you want to get specific. It’s dangerous in the wrong hands.”

“Now it’s your turn to wait, brother! I’m going to bring a proper tool for the job.”

Sans watched Papyrus enter the remains of Asgore’s gardening shed. After some grunting, the younger one soon emerged with a heavy duty shovel.

Raising a brow, Sans asked, “Why?”

“I…” Papyrus paused for a moment. “I heard that humans leave corpses behind. They turn to dust in a slow, gooey, disgusting way. ‘Decaying’, they call it. That’s why they need to be buried. So… if we found Frisk’s remains… we should give them a proper burial.”

Ever thoughtful, that brother. It’s one of the reasons why he’s so endearing.

“Let’s go do that then.”

Unlike Asgore’s relatively intact house, Toriel’s residence had completely turned to rubble. Any searching or salvaging meant having to dig through mounds of broken concrete.

Papyrus looked at his single shovel. “…I don’t think this is enough for the job. Should we go check the Librarby first? Asgore could have donated that book there.”

“Toriel may still be alive.” That’s what Sans told himself. Even if the chance was minimal, he had to try. Guilt started to build in his chest.

What if he had been less careful?  
What if he had searched for her on the first opportunity?  
What if he came to the rescue sooner?

He lifted a piece of broken concrete with Blue telekinesis magic and tossed that aside. His Blaster would have done the job much more efficiently, but it risked collapsing the structure further. Or worse, he might obliterate any survivors by mistake.

His brother joined the dig, using a mixture of might and magic to clear the area bit by bit.

Hours passed. Snow began to fall. Their spirits were as fatigued and sore as their fingers.

At the bottom of the rubble, they found Toriel’s dusty clothes and an ancient tome.

“Hey Sans,” said Papyrus. “Isn’t that the book you were looking for? Super fancy with metal decorations? Positively edgy? Magic circle and a pentagram? I guess Toriel was the one who borrowed it.”

Was that what truly happened? It seemed out of character for Toriel to be interested in such matters. Besides, she wasn’t on good terms with Asgore. She wouldn’t want to borrow anything from her former husband if she could help it.

Looking at her clothes, Sans noticed a strange tear on her blouse. It was a clean, vertical stripe. About the size of a… knife?

Was she stabbed to death before the building collapsed?

Despite the strange circumstances, he pushed the thought aside. “Have you seen the kid?”

“No,” said Papyrus. “Maybe they’re elsewhere in the house.”

Yet, despite their best efforts… they could not find Frisk.


	3. Chapter 3

December 29, 2015.

The military showed up at their tent site. Sans was prepared for the worst at first. He had heard some scary stories about the human armed forces, and he didn’t want to discover their validity first hand.

But his brother handled their presence with grace. Sans let him do the PR stuff while he stayed inside the tent.

From the outside, Papyrus said, “Please, good sirs and madams, help us find Frisk! They could still be somewhere out there! Not to mention there’s Alphys, Mettaton, Asgore, and many more possible survivors!”

The human soldier replied, “Don’t worry, Mister Papyrus. We’ll do our best. What about you though? We recommend you to evacuate to the nearest city.”

“Thank you for the kind thought, but we’re still trying to salvage our belongings.”

“I see. Be careful, alright? There’s no telling when this area will get dangerous again.”

After saying their goodbyes, the military convoy travelled towards the ruined town. Papyrus entered the tent and wiped off the snow on his bones.

He exclaimed: “Finally, a search-and-rescue team! With that many people, they’ll cover more ground than both of us ever could.”

“That’s good,” Sans replied in a rather nonchalant manner. He then took the decorated book out of his sleeping bag and flipped open the pages.

Papyrus sat beside him, curious. “You still haven’t told me what it’s about.”

“Oh. Right. Alright bro, don’t get spooked. What I’m holding right now is none other than Necromancy 101.”

Papyrus responded in a deadpan manner. “Ha ha, that’s very funny. No wizard in their right mind would name their positively ancient looking book ‘Necromancy 101’. I would sooner believe that they call this ‘The Necronomicon’ or ‘The Book of the Dead’. They’ll pick a name that’s as fanciful as their choice of decoration!”

Sans replied, “Sure, but in this case I’m the one who named it. The original book didn’t have a title, y’know. All contents, no label.”

Annoyed and mildly disappointed, the younger brother complained: “I could be experiencing a perturbed, awestruck reveal… But my lazy brother just had to destroy that one opportunity by cursing a magical book with a lame name.”

“Heh.” Sans winked at his brother. “As the saying goes, don’t judge a book by its cover. C’mon. Read together with me.”

The brothers huddled in their tent over a book. It was a trip back to their sweet childhoods, away from the harsh reality of their present day.

The first thing Papyrus noted was that the book was not made out of paper. He gently rubbed the corner between his fingers, feeling the texture. “What’s this? Leather?”

“You’re right. To be exact, it’s ‘parchment’: leather that’s made specifically for writing. It’s much more durable than paper. Whoever compiled this book spent all their money on making sure it lasts forever.”

After flipping a few more pages, Sans found what he was looking for. “Look here, Papyrus.”

The younger brother proceeded to read the first paragraph out loud: “If thou needest strength beyond self, imbue thy glyphs of draining upon thy weapon of choice. Seek out thy preferred sacrifice, be it a volunteer, a dying soul, or thy enemies. Should thou succeed in thy endeavour, thou shall reap their life in full. However, should thy sacrifice perish before thy deed, claim their remains nonetheless. Gaining a little is better than gaining none.”

It took a few seconds for the words to sink into his skull. When Papyrus finally understood the implications, he awkwardly stared at his elder brother. “Sans, why are you looking for instructions on ritualized murder???”

Ever the teasing joker, Sans chuckled at his younger brother’s reactions. “Relax. Look beyond the grisly imagery. Don’t you think the method reminds you of something?”

“Now that you mention it, you’re right. Isn’t this… ‘EXP’ and ‘LOVE’? ‘Execution points’ and ‘Level of Violence’!”

“Yup. See, I found this book when I was a young teenager. At first, I thought it was just some interesting make-believe. But it contained very specific instructions on how to build spells. So, I decided to try them out on some plants. Imagine my shock when I discovered that the spell worked. I drained the ‘life’ out of my test subjects, turning them into dry dust.”

Papyrus covered his mouth. “Oh my god. No wonder you had Asgore hide it! But as far as I know, you didn’t gain any EXP.”

Sans replied, “That’s because plants don’t have much to give. I think the amount of EXP there was in the fifth decimal or so. Negligible, and it would be gone the next day. For the gains to be useful, it had to be a sentient person. Hence, the call for a sacrifice.”

“See, Papyrus, unlike the stuff of movies, real necromancy deals with the science of the SOUL. How they function, what makes them tick, methods of application, and so on. The whole reanimation jig? It’s actually the caster extending their command to inanimate objects. Theoretically they could make a jug dance, but a jug doesn’t have limbs like the corpse of a dead person. Not exactly useful if you need them to hold a sword.”

Rubbing his chin, Papyrus wondered out loud: “Why didn’t we hear anything about this from human society? They didn’t even know magic existed until us monsters appeared.”

“Who knows?”

Sans had a bad feeling about the situation. He recalled the days when they first emerged from the Underground. The humans gawked at them as though they popped right out of a fairytale book.

The last recorded mention of any monsters happened over a thousand years ago. The only legend they remembered was one that stated the following:

‘Those who climb the mountain never return.’

There was no mention of monsters.  
No mention of magic.

Nothing.

What removed the memory of magic from human history? Was it just neglected knowledge? Or did it get squashed by mad tyrants? The thought made Sans feel uneasy.

It may be wise to keep an arm’s length away from humans. Remain cautious. He didn’t want to be imprisoned for research like an endangered animal. How should he ease in that harsh possibility?

With a question, perhaps.

“…Papyrus,” said Sans. “Do you want to evacuate to the human city?”

Tilting his head, the younger brother pondered out loud. “I don’t see why not. Living in an apartment is definitely better than a tent in the middle of nowhere. Why did you ask that?”

“Honestly? I’m not sure if they’ll welcome us. Stephan is a good man, but he doesn’t represent the whole of society. We’ve only been on the Surface for three months.”

“Oh, I see now! You want to give humans more time to get used to us. Is that right?”

That wasn’t what Sans considered, but he’ll roll with it. “Ahuh, you can say that.”

Unexpectedly, Papyrus breathed out a huge sigh of relief. “I’m glad you didn’t want to make a straight line to the comfiest shelter either. We’re on the same page after all!”

He continued, “You see, Sans… I did get the feeling that humans were a little suspicious of us monsters, especially when it came to skeletons. We look like their insides, and I understand that bones are considered symbols of death. Therefore, I want to impress human society! Show them that we are dependable heroes capable of solving whatever strange calamity that befell on our humble town!”

Filled with enthusiasm, the little brother asked: “What do you think, Sans? Is that a good idea?”

Indeed, leave it to Papyrus to dream big. Getting on humankind’s good side was a better plan than merely hiding.

“Yeah,” Sans smiled. “I’ll support you, Papyrus. Like I’ve always done.”

* * *

January 30, 2016.

It’s been a month since they planted their camp.

The brothers had managed to salvage enough material to fortify their tent into a shack. They’re not vulnerable to the cold like humans, but food supplies and other equipment needed to be kept dry.

For electricity, the brothers built a basic windmill. It’s not as stable as The Core, but it provides enough to charge their appliances. They already made plans to buy a diesel generator on the next best opportunity.

Then there was the question of raising money for trade. The brothers picked up every piece of gold and every human-approved dollar note that they could find. It was a bit dirty, but the dead don’t need money.

Military activity continued in the distance. They had long stopped the search and rescue operations, but they still guarded the area. Perhaps they brought researchers to investigate the site.

As for the kind soldier who spoke to Papyrus, he visited two more times. First, he delivered the bad news that they had found no survivors. Second, he donated aid packages to the brothers. When the military heard about the disaster they packed a truck full of those, expecting many more people to help. Such was not the case anymore.

Will they ever meet him again? It’s not likely. He had places to be.

Meanwhile, the brothers conducted their own research. Sans was the brains and Papyrus was the brawn. They made a great team.

It was bedtime. The brothers tucked into their sleeping bags and turned off the lights.

Sans noticed an oddity in the routine. “Papyrus? You didn’t ask for Fluffy Bunny. I thought you can’t sleep without it?”

Papyrus replied, “I don’t feel like it today.”

“Is something wrong? I mean, other than the fact we’re alone.”

“Well, the fact we’re alone is part of it. I’m not sure if you’ll understand because you were the popular one. You’re ‘Sans the Comedian’, the man who had a timeslot on Mettaton TV.”

“Try anyway. You won’t know otherwise, right? Even if I don’t understand, I’m here to listen.”

The younger brother hesitated, but the elder brother patiently waited. He’s the kind who doesn’t hurry.

At last, Papyrus said, “Sans… I have a fear of being forgotten.”

Seconds of silence passed. It turned into a minute. That’s fine. Sans can wait. He knew it was a difficult subject for his younger brother to face.

Papyrus then continued. “Being forgotten is worse than death. If a famous person dies, they’re still remembered someway. But if nobody remembers you, it’s as though you’ve never existed. It terrifies me, somehow.”

“I worked very hard to get noticed. I wanted to prove to others, to you, to myself, that ‘The Great Papyrus’ is someone to be remembered. I thought I finally achieved what I wanted. Asgore made a hedge in my image. Undyne introduced me to her girlfriend. My friendship circle widened. I had kids looking up to me.”

“And… and then… suddenly, all of that was gone. My deeds died together with them. Being famous is useless without anyone alive to remember it. How did you cope?”

No wonder Papyrus didn’t want his usual reading of Fluffy Bunny. Those were some rather serious philosophical dilemmas.

“Um,” said Sans. “Personally, I just don’t hold much sentimental value when it comes to fame. It was fun being a comedian and getting paid is always nice. But, I did it because I wanted to pass the time. Becoming well-known was a side effect.”

The younger brother sighed in disappointment. “That’s so typical of you, Sans. Oh well, just consider my ramblings as a bout of midnight existential crisis.”

“H-hey, I didn’t mean to dismiss you. Sorry.”

Maybe it’s time to change subjects. Sans combed through his mind for a topic that would interest Papyrus.

Therefore, the elder brother asked: “Do you love humankind?” 

What followed after was an instant sense of regret. Why did he even think of that approach in the first place? “Wait forget I asked that--”

“Sans,” Papyrus replied in a serious manner. “There are great humans out there, like Stephan and his adorable family. Oh, don’t forget about that kind soldier too. He was really, really nice.”

Continuing, he said: “I love more than just humankind. I love the air, the water, the sky, and the earth. I love the flora and the fauna, even if they annoy me. I love this entire planet and all who live in it. Because of that, I don’t want anyone to suffer what we have suffered.”

Did that motivation stem from his fears of being forgotten, or from his empathy towards others? It could always be both. Knowing from experience, charity and selfishness oft tangled themselves into a knot.

But those details were not important for Sans. Instead, he said. “Papyrus. As long as I live, I will never, ever forget you.”

Papyrus uttered an overdramatized, exaggerated gasp. “Is… is that a promise??? I thought you hate making promises.”

“I didn’t make a new one,” said Sans. “I made that oath when you were a tiny baby bone in my arms.”

“Wow, an oath?! I wish I could meet that younger Sans. Maybe he was less lazy and more responsible. Nyeh!”

“Not a chance. That kid’s long gone. Heh.”

The brothers chuckled together softly and exchanged goodnights. It seems that Papyrus had his mood improved enough for him to sleep on his own.

On the other hand, Sans felt it was still too early to sleep. He sat up in his sleeping bag and turned on his lantern. He took out his notebook and started comparing notes with the tome he called ‘Necromancy 101’.

To this day, he couldn’t forget how he found Toriel’s remains. The circumstances of her death were deeply suspicious. Her house was the only one that completely collapsed, as if it was meant to cover up a crime.

Muttering to himself, he said, “If only I have a way to look into the past…”

He flipped a few more pages. There, he found exactly what he was looking for.

“Heh. I guess the ancients must have wished the same.”

* * *

February 5, 2016.

At four in the morning, Papyrus put his tools in the boot of his car. While he waited for the engine to warm up, he told Sans the following: “I’m going to go over to Stephan’s farm to help build a new barn. He wants to keep some geese. Apparently their meat sells for a pretty penny.”

“Huh, cool.” Said Sans. “Since he has a valid address, I’m guessing you’re gonna use that as the delivery point for all our supplies too.”

“Correct! We’ve already salvaged most of the stuff from the town ruins, I believe. We’re finding less and less usable items every day. If I don’t become at least semi-employed, we might starve to death out here.”

Leave it to Papyrus to speak about grim realities with straightforward cheer.

“Take care of the camp for me, okay?”

“Okay. See you in a few days.”

Sans watched the red car hover over the snow and fly towards the nearest road. That’s one method to get around environmental hazards.

He went back into the tent to look for a backpack. Picking it up, he said, “Alright, time to get to work.”

He closed his eyes to get a clear image of his destination. Teleporting long range was trickier than his usual short hops. Get it wrong, and he might end up in a rather dangerous spot.

Coordinates, set.  
Location, set.  
Environments, referenced.

After locking on, he made a cut in spacetime and jumped through. He arrived at the now-cleared area of Toriel’s house. Snow had completely buried the location.

Sans put the bag down and took out his notebook. He flipped to the page where the original tome talked about divination.

‘Should thou be summoned to reveal the past, prepare a magic circle of revelation. Tune it to a source of power, be it thyself or others. Thereafter, three things must be fulfilled.’

‘First, thou must have the correct place and time.’  
‘Second, thou must have a memento of the dead.’  
‘Third, thou must have a scrying pool or a clear crystal in possession.’

‘Should thou lack any of the three, thy spell will fail.’

It was incredibly scientific for an ancient instruction. It called for time, location, and identity: everything that was required to retrieve an event.

Sans used his bone magic as the building blocks for the circle. It was no different than programming a code. Logic formed into words, and words formed into clauses, and clauses formed into commands.

He linked the source of power to multiple fully-charged power banks. Since he had no idea how energy-intensive this magic could be, he didn’t want to link it to himself. It would be terrible if he fainted in the middle of a ghost town.

As for the request for a scrying pool or crystal, he figured that he could update it to a tablet screen. Back in those days, natural reflections were humanity’s only means of channeling visual displays. Even then, they would lack the clarity that modern folk enjoy.

For the final part of the procedure… Toriel’s clothes. Sans was unable to completely remove her dust.

He placed her blouse at the center of the octagram. That spot was exactly where he had found her a little over a month ago.

Sans activated the magic. The circle glowed with power, and the tablet began to flicker to life.

Toriel in all her white-furred beauty appeared on the screen. She stood at the entrance of the house, waving with a smile.

He remembered when he saw that. It was right before he joined Papyrus on this trip out of town for the elusive turkey. That was the last time Sans saw her alive.

Then, something odd happened. Her expression turned solemn after they left. Why would that be?

The spell’s camera continued to follow her into the house. She went to the bookshelf. Her hands took out a stack of books all about snails. Her collection had tripled since she moved to the Surface. They had a lot more snail species after all, and Toriel loved reading about them.

But… she immediately placed the stack onto the nearest table.

Toriel went back to the bookshelf and reached for the deepest part of the rack. There… she pulled out the tome of necromancy.

She was hiding it. From who? And why?

The woman went to her armchair, sat down, and started reading the tome openly for all to see. Minutes later, her gaze flicked towards the door. She immediately shut the book with both hands.

Toriel began to talk. There was no sound. Plus turning up the volume was pointless, as the spell gave him purely visual feedback.

Sans tried changing the angle too. He wanted to see who she was speaking to. Again, a futile attempt. He had Toriel’s memento, and Toriel’s only. The spell won’t show anyone it can’t identify.

“Dammit!” Sans exclaimed. If only he could hear her speak, he would have gotten the answer he desperately needed.

Whatever the conversation was, it seemed very serious. Her expression turned into one of perturbed shock. She clutched the tome close to her body, as if she’s trying to protect it.

A great force then slammed against her chair, completely flipping her over. Before Toriel could stand up again, a knife plunged down on her chest. Her SOUL floated out of her body… and then the screen went dark.

“I didn’t see it shatter,” Sans muttered. “Did… did they steal her SOUL?”

Sans had the right hunch. Toriel was murdered before the calamity. Finding one answer led to even more questions.

Who was the murderer?  
What was their motive?

Above all, what did they do with Toriel’s SOUL?

Then, while he pondered, he heard pops and crackles. It didn’t come from any of his equipment…

…They came from the forest around him.

Sans’ first instinct was to teleport into the magic circle. He must retrieve Toriel’s clothes, for they’re his only clue to solving this mystery.

Just when he picked up the evidence, black briars erupted from below the earth. They shredded the blouse, leaving Sans with a mere scrap of fabric in his hands.

Thorny vines whipped across the site, determined to destroy any living being in the vicinity. Sans could hardly follow them with sight alone.

He did what a sensible person would do: escape. He fled into the ruins by making a series of short teleports. Yet despite his efforts, the vines and briars chased him by the heel. It tailed every teleport and every dodge. If he was just a moment slower, he would have been killed.

It’s fast. Insanely fast. If this was its base speed, no wonder no one survived the onslaught. Humans? Not a chance. They’re sitting ducks unless they bombed everything from afar.

Sans tried to deter the chase with his usual repertoire. Fired his Gasterblasters and threw some bones. But whenever he fought back, the monstrosity returned with greater vigor.

He began to wonder if it’s absorbing his magic… 

If that’s the case, he had a special card up his sleeve. Deep in his heart, he uttered a prayer that his weeks of necromantic studies hadn’t been in vain.

On his command, multiple bones imbued with the glyphs of draining were sent flying towards the briars. The enchantment activated upon contact, robbing all life and strength from its victims. The afflicted thorns turned ashen white before crumbling into dry dust.

Ribbons of magic gathered upon Sans. He immediately felt refreshed. Energetic. Lively. But there was something not quite right.

“0 EXP?! Really???” 

The monstrosity was indeed a mere plant, which meant that anything he gained would be hollow and fleeting.

As he had expected, his strength faded the moment the spell completed its course. More vines replaced the ones that perished. 

At last, Sans had arrived at the edge of town. It’s the wide open snow fields from here onwards.

Perfect. All he needed to do was to focus on the furthest point and teleport there. His left eye sizzled with cyan and yellow as he pushed his magic to the limits.

In one blink, he teleported towards the horizon. The sudden stop of his momentum caused him to tumble in the snow. It didn’t matter if his landing was not the most graceful. He had survived the ordeal, and that’s what’s most important.

Lying down on his back, looking up at the cold winter sky, Sans came to terms with his discoveries.

“Those thorns,” he muttered. “It’s a weapon. Something is controlling it. Or, rather, ‘someone’. It… it targeted me… because I was getting too close to the truth.”

What truly happened on that fateful day? Sans wondered. The circumstances began to grow more and more complicated…


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is Golden Quiche level editing. It involves many attempts and retries. That's why this took more time.
> 
> https://sophtoart.tumblr.com/post/642505421562806272/the-cover-for-the-lone-defender-my-surface
> 
> Cool cover picture here

On the very first page of the ancient tome, these were the words written:

‘A day shall come when the Crimson Sun and the Bloodstained Moon will rise. Beware, for they bring forth unnatural darkness.’

‘Under the veil, the spirits of the dead, the damned, and the hollow shall invade the land. Whole kingdoms have already fallen to their might. Such is the dreadful doom of The Celestial Calamity.’

‘Most will hide in their holes and beg for mercy. But not thou, reader. Knowledge is power, and power I shall share. May thou master this art before the next calamity, lest thou be too late.’

‘Above all, remain ever determined, no matter the time and place.’

* * *

February 10, 2016.

Sans woke up to a flood of ominous energies. The sense of danger was so great, it stirred even the most slothful guy into action.

The first thing he noticed was the unnatural gleam of red. Emerging from the tent, Sans looked upwards. The ink-black skies themselves confirmed his grimmest suspicions.

High on the East rose the Crimson Sun, a shining twisted vortex.  
High on the West rose the Bloodstained Moon, perpetually in its fullest phase.

The mere presence of the baneful celestial bodies blotted out the stars, while its dreadful light dyed the white snow in the shade of blood.

This was none other than the foretold doomsday. The Celestial Calamity had begun, and Sans didn’t think he would ever be truly prepared to face it.

He knew enough astronomy to recognise that the current lunar phase should be a waxing crescent with five percent visibility. But the Bloodstained Moon defied that expectation. Nevermind the presence of the sun at the dead of night. This hinted to him that this phenomenon doesn’t correlate with the laws of nature. What if it was a type of dark magic, attempting to override reality?

Whatever it was, the campsite would no longer be safe. He hurried back into his tent to grab his backpack. By now, he had already replaced the one he lost in his investigation. It contained rations, survival tools, and the Necromancy 101 tome.

Just when he slung it on his back, his feet sensed a deep rumbling beneath the snowy earth. ‘The dead, the damned, and the hollow’, the book warned. Only the heavens know what deadly fate threatened to break through.

Where could he flee? North? South? East? West? He didn’t even know what lay ahead and in which direction. Everything happened too quickly.

An idea flashed in his mind. If he couldn’t move sideways, why not go up? Sans focused his thoughts towards the sky, as far as he could muster. 

One blink and he emerged high in the air. Looking down, he saw the black briars shred his tent and topple the windmill generator. Sparks flew before they fizzled into nothingness.

Sans quickly turned his own SOUL Blue to slow his descent. No point fleeing upwards only to be smashed by gravity. 

While airborne, he scouted the area in hopes to find safe ground. Instead, he saw nothing but a writhing sea of thorns. A grim reality then dawned upon him; the briars had consumed the whole of Mount Ebott and beyond, stretching from horizon to horizon.

‘Safe ground’ had ceased to exist.

The thorns soon started to stir again. They’re trying to merge together so that they can form a tower.

Sans summoned his Gasterblaster. After what happened at the town ruins, he made sure to imbue everything he owned with the glyph of draining. He was certain that the briars would come after him again.

The beam tore through the vines, but they were regrowing faster than he could destroy. Slowly but surely, with great resistance, it climbed towards him.

Worse yet, he’s losing altitude fast. The strain from the upkeep of his Blue magic caused him to sweat bullets. He would float down into harm’s way sooner or later. 

Sans knew his limits, but he can’t give up yet. He still had Plan B. And for that, he needed to get back to solid ground.

Max power! Max Karma! Seven Blasters at once!

Vast destructive magic ground down the tower. The lasers drained the vines into dust, while KR delayed its regrowth. The additional boosts helped to maintain his stamina. Before he knew it, he had formed a large clearing beneath his feet.

The moment he landed, the whole bush aimed for Sans, determined to obliterate him on the spot.

Sans dodged every swipe, stab, and slash. In the meantime, he did his best to visualize Stephan’s farm. It’s a considerable distance from Ebott itself. Hopefully, the thorns had yet to reach there.

What did the front porch look like? Landmarks? Coordinates? It’s been a while since he visited there. He would have escaped with confidence if he had a fresher memory of that place.

Mess this up, and he’d be dead where he stands.

He can’t wait anymore. The clearing steadily shrunk. Vines were now flying past the edges of his skull and grazing his clothes with their sharp thorns. Clear or not, Sans had no choice but to initiate the teleport.

The trip wasn’t as smooth as he’d like. His head was dizzy, his balance unsteady, and his vision went blurry. In his stumbling, he bumped his shoulder against a wooden fence pole.

That physical shock was the last straw. He leaned against the pole and vomited his guts out, despite not having any real intestines to speak of. There went his late night snack of hot dog and ketchup.

“Uuughhh…” He grumbled. “This is why I hate blurry teleports. Talk about a bad case of teleportation sickness.”

When his vision cleared up, Sans found himself standing at the front gates of the humble farm. The lights were off. There were no vehicles to be seen either, be it Papyrus’ car or Stephan’s pickup truck.

He breathed a huge sigh of relief. “…They’ve evacuated. Thank heavens. I can focus on my own safety--”

Before he could finish his sentence, Sans saw a laser beam fire in the distance. The light illuminated the snow and smashed through the briars.

Another Gasterblaster?

There was only one person with similar magic… and that was his brother, Papyrus.

“No…” Sans shook his head. “No, no, no, no!”

The more Papyrus used his normal, unimbued magic, the more the enemy would absorb, and thus the stronger the menace would grow.

The younger brother couldn’t have known about the dangers. He wasn’t there when Sans investigated the town. Plus, he had yet to tell him that fighting was the worst option to take.

The elder brother rushed across the snow. Teleport, run, run, teleport. It was too dark to properly track his brother’s exact location.

Questions burned in his mind. Why would Papyrus have fought back? He could have easily fled to safety if he had just kept driving.

Closer and closer Sans got to the scene. There, against the red light, he witnessed a dazzling flurry of bone magic and lasers. Papyrus dodged the vines with the grace of a dancer. Upon every opportunity for a counter, his magnificent barrage of beams and bones shredded through the evil thorns.

The ever great one always had been the stronger of the two in terms of strength, but seemed to hold back out of consideration. Such was especially true when it came to duelling against children.

“Papyrus!” yelled Sans, “Stop! Stop fighting! You’ll only make it stronger!!! Run!!!”

Alas, he was too late. A thorny briar impaled The Great Papyrus right through the center of his chest.

He couldn’t believe what he had just witnessed. His awe inspiring, powerhouse of a brother failed to evade a fatal blow.

An uncharacteristic flood of grief pushed Sans into a ballistic fury. He pulled out all the stops, ripping and tearing through the invasive weeds.

He can’t count on time to rewind anymore. He can’t count on a mere  
anomaly.

Anything that happened on the Surface… remains final.

In his rampage, Sans had managed to free Papyrus from the briars. He caught his brother before he hit the earth.

Dust from the shattered vines floated down upon them.

Still conscious, Papyrus spoke with laboured breathing. “Sans…?”

“Yup. It’s me bro,” he said. “Stay with me. Please.”

“Did… Did Stephan escape…?”

Looking at the road, Stephan’s pickup truck and Papyrus’ red car had both become pieces of scrap metal: flipped over and torn apart. Apparently the ferocious vines outsped modern wheels.

“I don’t know. All I see is the wreckage.”

There’s no time to ask about the finer details. The briar regrew, surrounding the brothers.

Sans gulped. The situation turned more dire than he'd like. He couldn’t whisk the wounded Papyrus to safety, nor could he perpetually defend him either. Nonetheless, he prepared himself to make a proper last stand.

He'd never, ever leave Papyrus behind. No matter what!

The briars stopped moving. Although confused, Sans maintained his guard.

Echo flowers sprouted from the briars and bloomed all around, their blue petals contrasting against the red night. A wicked, childish laughter echoed throughout the land…

“You…” Sans grit his teeth. “You’re that flower. Weren’t you supposed to be Papyrus’ friend! Turns out you’re a rotten brat after all. I should have killed you sooner…”

Regret filled his heart. Sans wanted to trust that Papyrus had grown into a fine adult, so he let him have freedom in making friends. Yet, why didn’t he share his own knowledge? Maybe, just maybe, Papyrus would have made a better decision if Sans had the bravery to voice his thoughts.

Looking up towards the sky, Sans saw that The Crimson Sun and the Bloodstained Moon were on the verge of merging into an eclipse. The moon turned black as the sun’s swirling rays embraced it. Dark energy pressed down upon Sans’ shoulders, suffocating and oppressive.

In turn, shadowy berries started to grow from the briars. Soon they formed into familiar shapes.

The first to drop was a fish woman with fins beside her head. She summoned a spear made out of water.

“Undyne…?” Sans muttered.

More and more fruit ripened into the residents of Ebott.

Alphys.  
Mettaton.  
Asgore.  
Grillby.  
The Dog Clan.  
The ice chucking wolf.  
The Cinnabun baking bunny.  
Politics bear.  
Gerson.

Everyone was here: from the youngest to the oldest. And yet in the midst of all those people… Toriel was nowhere to be seen.

The shade of Undyne brandished her spear at Sans, speaking in a slightly distorted voice: “Who the hell are you? What did you do to Papyrus?!?”

Sans asked: “Don’t you recognize me, Undyne?”

The mention was not taken lightly. The tip of her spear almost hit his face.

Growling, she questioned: “How do you know my name? Speak!”

“I’m Papyrus’ big brother. Of course I know you.”

“Liar! Papyrus doesn’t have a brother! We’ve been BEST FRIENDS since we’re kids and I know EVERYTHING about him. Hand him over now or else I’ll skewer YOU!”

The echo flowers laughed again. And then, they talked.

“Howdy, you idiot Smiley Trashbag! Looks like you’re such a lazy piece of garbage, nobody bothered remembering you. And yet Papyrus was the one who’s afraid of being forgotten. Isn’t that sad, Sans?”

He tried his best not to lash out. Stay level headed. Maybe get information. 

“...What did you do?”

“Aww, it’s nothing. I just took their souls and stored them in a safe place, far away from the humans, this stupid calamity, and all the other possible apocalypses that could rip this planet apart. Everyone is gonna live in my perfect little dream.”

“A dream?…”

“Ahuh. Imagine a world where I get to be with my best friends as my true self. No tragedy. No flower body. I will become the Asriel I always should have been! Now all I need to do is to fetch Papyrus. And discard you, of course. Then we will live happily ever after!”

It made sense now. The destruction of the town, the swift murder of every resident, and the briars stretching as far as they did… it was all to create a child’s ideal world.

One by one, the shades of the dead stepped forward.

“Papyrus?” said Asgore’s ghost. “Everything will be alright. We will rescue you from your predicament. Once you are better, we can have a cup of tea together.”

Grillby added, “…Hand him over… And nobody gets hurt…”

Mettaton. “Goodness darling, a hostage situation? My, my, my that just won’t do! If you know better, you don’t want me to transform.”

Alphys. “Um… uh… H-he looks so shady. Is he weak or strong? I-I can’t tell at all. So scary…”

Gerson. “Don’t worry, missy! I’ll give that whippersnapper a good whack o’ the hammer if he tries anything. Wa ha ha! We’ll get Papyrus back no matter what.”

“Damn right!” Undyne took another step forward. “With all of us together, we will NEVER LOSE!!!”

The flower child mocked again. “See? The whole world is against you now! You’re powerless to stop me! How does it feel to be the bad guy, huh?”

By luck or fate, Sans heard multiple jet planes roar overhead. Was that the human world’s legendary ‘air force’? This would be the first time he’d see them in action. 

The fleet flew towards the ruins of the monster town. Once they were over their destination, they dropped their payload. A number of small flashing lights landed between the buildings, before erupting into a massive cluster of dust, smoke, and fire.

An ethereal shriek of pain echoed into the land. The thorns receded and the ghosts vanished. It seemed that the humans had managed to hurt the heart of the calamity.

Soon after a second fleet arrived, followed by a third. More and more bombs dropped on where the monsters once lived and died. By the time they were done, nothing remained.

Just like that, all traces of monster society got wiped off the map.

Did they win? Perhaps. The book didn’t take into account the possibility of modern humans exploiting the laws of physics to frightening ends.

“S-Sans…” Papyrus clutched his coat. “…Help them… you have to…”

“What do you mean? The humans? They’ve got this covered.”

Just when he said that, every bone in his being felt the tingle of monster magic in the air. Great fireballs began to rain down from the sky not long after. Spears of water impaled those who tried to evade.

And so the fleet had their mighty wings broken.

The living dead of monsterkind, empowered by their master, had struck back against all who stood against their dreams.

Sans asked, “How did you know?”

Weakly smiling, Papyrus answered: “…I did my own research… This calamity… it happened before… ngh… two centuries ago…” 

“C’mon, Papyrus, let’s get you to a hospital. Any hospital. You’ll be alright. We’ll survive this.”

The younger brother shook his head. “…Sans… I know I’m dying…”

“You’re not. You’re absolutely not! I’ll do anything to keep you alive, anything!!!” Sans clutched his brother close. “What’s the point of living if you’re not with me???”

Both of them knew that there’s no hope. The wound was too grievous, even by skeleton monster standards. Still, he refused to give up. He couldn’t. Imagining a life without Papyrus was too frightening to bear.

His younger brother began to whisper the following words. “…If thou needest strength… Seek out thy sacrifice… Reap their life in full…”

Sans was shocked to hear Papyrus quote pieces from the Necromancy 101.

“Papyrus? What are you talking about?”

“…Sans… I don’t want to join them… I don’t want to live in a world… where you don’t exist…”

The younger brother’s bones began to flake into dust. It wouldn’t be long before he completely crumbled. 

“…My strength… my life… I’ll give them to you… Protect this world… Love this world… And save the humans… Do it… in my stead…”

A sadistic crossroad lay before him.

Should he let nature take its course and let his brother pass on?  
Should he remain determined to search for a hospital?  
Or should he honour his brother’s final wishes?

There wasn’t much time left to consider. In the end, he had to make the most logical choice for himself and Papyrus. If he couldn't do that, the opportunity would be lost forever.

Sans summoned a bone engraved with the glyph of draining. He made the end a needle-thin point. Getting pricked was the least violent and painful way to go. Plus, he knew exactly where the softest part of a skeleton lay.

He hovered the tip of the needle over the gaps of Papyrus’ neck, ready to execute the deed.

Gazing at his beloved sibling for one last time, Sans asked: “Any last words, bro?”

“…I’m sorry, and… brother…” Tears rolled down the young one’s face. “…I love you.”

Sans took a deep breath, trying his damndest to not cry. Instead, he kept his trademark cheeky grin for a sweet send off.

“I love you too, Papyrus. Farewell.”

In one swift motion, he struck into Papyrus’ neck. The glyphs shone, and the body glowed along with it.

Ribbons of life magic collapsed unto the elder brother. Papyrus’ strength, stamina, and skills were transferred straight toward Sans’ being.

It was intense. Too intense. His head started to hurt. His eyes hurt even more.

“AAAAAAAAAAAARRRRRRGGGGGHHHH!!!”

Did those screams come from burning pain or from the searing sorrow? Sans didn’t care; they’re one and the same to him.

When the process was over and done, Papyrus had become dust. His trademark red tattered scarf draped over Sans’ hands.

Under the veil of the apocalyptic eclipse, Sans broke into an unrestrained, bitter laughter.

“Heh… heh… heheheheheheh! AHAHAHAHAHAHAAAAAAA!!!!!”

He threw his head towards the starless sky, yelling at it.

“The laziest piece of shit in the whole kingdom is the sole survivor? And I’m supposed to be humanity’s saviour?! What an absolute joke! The worst divine comedy I’ve ever seen!!!”

Truthfully, in his heart, two people died that day. Not one.

The first was The Great Papyrus.  
The second was Sans the Comedian.

Sans pulled up his hood. Then, he wrapped his brother’s dusty scarf around his neck.

He had yet to realise it, but his eye colours had permanently changed. They were no longer white. His right eye had turned pure crimson, while his left eye had become a hybrid. A red outer layer surrounded his remaining cyan.

Grieving can wait. Getting back on his feet, he turned his attention towards the fires of Mount Ebott. The mastermind of this disaster was there somewhere. In that case, all Sans needed to do was to dive straight into the heart of the calamity and eliminate the problem.

Should he fail to find that damn flower, he’d try again the next time. And again, and again, and again. For as long as he lives.

“Hey brat,” he taunted. “Wanna have a mad time?”

Sans lunged straight into the distant warzone. Out of the ashes of calamity rose a new legend: a twisted phoenix, driven by a single-minded purpose.

He shall one day be known as Dust, The Lone Defender.


	5. Chapter 5

February 10, 2021.

It’s been five years since The Celestial Calamity began.

Five years of killing the unnatural dead.  
Five years of watching for signs of resurgence.  
Five years of mourning and wandering.

Five. Whole. Years.

And Dust knew that there would be many more.

Today of all days, Mount Ebott once more erupted into a field of thorns underneath the red sky.

Again and again, in erratic rates, The Celestial Calamity would repeat. That was when all hell broke loose, every single time.

And yet, by grace or by irony, that would also be their weakest moment.

Dust looked at his own sleeves, the proof of his weary days: tattered at the edges, faded from sunlight, while stained with blood, dust, and dirt. No amount of laundering could make them spotless again.

What about his footwear?

His pink slippers? Demoted to a house decoration.  
His sneakers? Flopped within two years.  
Papyrus’ old boots? Too big and too heavy for him.

He now donned shin-high leather boots that he salvaged from one of his adventures, modified to fit his bony feet. Rugged, sturdy, yet light in weight.

Preparing for the battle ahead, Dust adjusted his hood and muttered a little pep phrase to himself.

“Let’s go.”

He teleported straight into the heart of the briars, ripping and tearing through the floral hell with his own special brand of brutal magic.

The briars in turn made more fruit to dispense the living dead. Gave them a sob story. Told everyone that the enemy had murdered their precious Papyrus. Sent them on their way to charge forward with rage.

Light and darkness, life and death, they swirled into a whirlwind of dust.

Who would be the final boss this time, he wondered? In his previous attempt, it was a Whimsalot. That choice was rather amusing, albeit curious.

This time it was Undyne yet again. One of the more popular picks. High offensive power. Good coverage. Those homing water spears kept Dust on his toes. Ever an exhausting endeavour to battle against her.

And that was exactly why he had prepared a little trick for the occasion, tucked away in his pocket, courtesy of the young soldier he found a few months back.

Undyne’s shade yelled: “Why did you kill him?”

Dust paid no heed. Dodging spear after spear, he focused solely on getting up close and personal.

“What did he ever do to you?!”

Ignored.

“Papyrus would never hurt anyone!”

True.

“So why?”

Papyrus wouldn’t have survived that fatal wound.

“WHY???”

He’s already been dead for five years.

There’s nothing to explain.

He landed right in front of Undyne and took out a grenade: his secret weapon. Strength she may have, but she was no match against his speed and cunning.

Dust pulled the pin and shoved the live grenade straight into Undyne’s mouth. Then, he teleported away before he got caught in the blast.

One big boom later, Undyne and all her nearby forces were gone. Annihilated.

Somewhere in the distance, a flower child threw a tantrum.

“Human explosives?!?! That… That’s NOT FAIR!!! Ugh you stupid CHEATER!!!”

Echo flowers again. The little brat played smart by keeping his true location a secret.

“Argh, I QUIT! Count yourself lucky, Edgebag. I’ll get you next time!”

Today’s apocalypse was cancelled out of sheer frustration. Just like that, the briars retreated. The skies cleared, revealing the blue noonday winter sky.

Squinting against the brightness the the sun, Dust commented: 

“What lovely weather today.”

He then vanished in the wind.

* * *

Somehow, Stephan’s quaint little farmhouse had survived each and every Crimson Calamity. Was it from dumb luck or was it secretly blessed by a holy power? Nonetheless, Dust claimed the property as his own residence. He had nowhere else to go.

He kept the home clean and intact, contrary to his personal habits. It was a borrowed place, so it would be rather shameful for the original owner to return to a complete dump. Papyrus would have wanted it that way. 

Of course, that scenario required Stephan to have escaped the briars on that fateful night.

Dust fed some wood into the fireplace. He may not need warmth to survive, but it was a nice simple, soothing luxury. Once the flames had stabilized, he laid down next to the radiance.

Staring at the ceiling, he muttered: “…The three of us chatted here. Papyrus was still alive back then…”

It didn’t take long for Dust to fall asleep. His snoring continued unabated until a ghostly voice yelled at him: 

“Brooooother, you haven’t had dinner yet!”

That snapped him wide awake. A familiar red scarf floated over him, its ends trailing into faint wisps of smoke. It belonged to the decapitated head of a certain skeleton monster whose eyes glowed in a demonic crimson. His gloved hands, minus the arms, crossed over each other in annoyed disappointment.

The hallucination had returned. Not long after the first Celestial Calamity, Dust began seeing a distorted version of the deceased Papyrus. He called it ‘The Phantom’. Treated him like a third brother who appeared out of nowhere.

The Phantom was inferior to the real Papyrus in every way. It was almost an insult for him to share the same face and voice, if he wanted to be critically fussy. But… having the company of this ‘facsimile’ was better than being completely alone.

Dust pushed himself off the ground. “Sorry, bro. That nap took longer than I thought.”

The house was now dark. The fire had gone out and the sun had set. It looked like he’s back on the night shift again.

Using a lighter, he lit a candle. “Hey, want some chicken rice? We haven’t had chicken or rice for ages.”

The Phantom frowned in skepticism. “Where exactly did you get chicken rice?”

“That soldier had it in his bag. Some kind of MRE. Y’know, dehydrated stuff. Been saving it as a reward. Besides, it’s a super cool miniature science project.”

The chicken rice was one of those fancier types of rations with a water-activated heating element. Just prepare the packet, combine the ingredients, and add plain old cold water. Within a few seconds, the whole thing would be cooking in its own steam.

Watching this wonder reminded Dust of the days when he was still ‘Sans’, wide-eyed for all things science.

“Brother,” asked the Phantom, “Will you tell me stories from the loot room?”

“Huh? Again? Didn’t we do that last week?”

“But that’s a whoooooole week ago!” The Phantom put up a puppy-like face. “Please? Please, please, please, please?”

Dust sighed. “Sure, fine. After dinner. Your choice, as usual.”

“Yaaaay!”

The subsequent dinner tasted quite alright. It certainly was a nice change of pace from wild game, forage, and potatoes. Plus all the hard work had already been done by a machine far away. He had the right to be lazy sometimes, right? That was how he thought.

After eating his fill, he went upstairs. He had converted one of the guest rooms there into what he called a ‘loot room’. It was where Dust stored the mementos he picked up over the years. Remnants of enemies, little interesting trinkets, or anything else that caught his fancy. 

At times he found it difficult to tell what’s real and what’s not. This archive of items served as an essential timeline of reality. Plus it had the side advantage of keeping the boredom at bay.

The first item for tonight was a broken rifle. Pointing at it, the Phantom said: “I want to listen to this one!”

“Ah, that thing. Pretty grim tale. Did you know there used to be a village south of here? Yeah. They survived for many nights, until outlaws took over their neighbourhood.”

“Why didn’t you protect them?” The Phantom asked.

Dust shook his head. “To be honest, I didn’t want to worsen the situation. There was a chance that the bandits belonged to a network. Didn’t want their boss to send in a worse team.”

“But the village was destroyed, right? Something went wrong. Everyone died. That’s why you have this gun.”

“Skipping ahead aren’t we?” He shrugged. “I guess they didn’t meet their quota. Or someone tried to rebel. Who knows? I didn’t bother to investigate. Still, I realised there and then that I had to start caring about who sets up camp in my territory.”

“So… First, I turned the dead into dust. Think of it as cremation without a fire. Couldn't let them rot out in the open to get eaten by maggots and wild animals. Then I went on a cross-country trip to rid myself of every last member of their gang: from the lowest lackey to the top dog.”

Cackling, The Phantom flew around in excitement. “Wonderful, wonderful! Kill those outlaws! Kill! Kill! Kill! They must have been full of precious LOVE and EXP, waiting just for you!”

And that was exactly why and how The Phantom was inferior to the real Papyrus. His genuine brother wouldn’t call for wanton murder with such joyful glee. Never.

He placed the broken rifle back down. “Sorry to burst your bubble, but those guys aren’t actually worth very much. Extracting EXP from humans is not as straightforward as monsters. When humans die, their SOUL stays in the body and deteriorates along with it. Unless you drain them or target the SOUL directly, humans won’t increase your LV. It’s why their kind can kill all they want without leaving so much as a single proof of their sin. Funny, ain’t it?”

“Either way, I had a better idea. I pinned the corpses of their bosses on a wall and painted a message with their blood. Let them rot there because I thought they would be more useful as deterrents.”

“What was the message, Brother?”

“I wrote: ‘Stay away from Mount Ebott. Or else.’ Figured the last thing I needed was a multi-way battlefront between humans and demonic plants. Yup. Nope. Absolute thorn in the side. Pun intended.”

“Did it work?”

Dust planted his face into his palm. “Nope. It backfired. Hard. Instead of deterring humans, trespassers flocked to Mount Ebott. Seriously, there’s something wrong with their heads.”

The Phantom moved over to a metal coat-of-arms. “Like this one. Right? Right? A true party of heroes -- with a capital H -- hunted us down! I thought they’re the stuff of story books.”

“Yup, ahuh. Charged at me with all kinds of accusations. ‘Evil’, ‘fiend’, ‘necromancer’, ‘heretic’, ‘murderer’, whichever suited their fancy, including all five of those labels combined. They thought that I was responsible for The Celestial Calamity. Like what the hell, man? I was originally gonna let them go home. But…”

A sense of disgust welled up in his heart. “They asked for it. Nothing pisses me off more than people who refuse to admit that their own wrongs. If you ain’t a true hero at heart, don’t wear the badge.”

Tilting his head in innocence, The Phantom questioned: “Do you consider yourself one?”

“Me? A hero?” Dust chuckled. “Obviously not. I’m just doing what needs to be done.”

“But you have many, many human fans! They leave you all sorts of gifts at the farmhouse gates. What’s more, they sing praises for the tragic hero: ‘Dust, The Lone Defender’! One man fighting against the Calamity of Ebott. Woe be all who do evil before his gaze! Quite inspiring actually.”

The idea that he had a fanclub brought genuine discomfort upon Dust. He knew his own deeds. What miniscule remnant of a sense of justice that remained in his heart warned him against basking in his accidental fame. To him, if there ever was anyone who could be called a hero in the traditional sense, it would have been Papyrus.

Hovering towards a black baseball cap, The Phantom urged Dust to tell a closing story. “C’mon, Brother. What about this one? Tell me! Tell me! It’s the finale!”

“…No, not yet.”

Denying the ghost always carried a risk of angering him. He would inflict some kind of torture as a price. Usually insomnia. The worst could last for days. A tired mind makes poor judgements, and that might get him killed out there.

The Phantom’s eyes glowed red, and his voice turned monotone.

“You must. Or, I won’t let you sleep.”

Still, Dust really didn’t want to talk about it.

“Seriously, bro. Not tonight.”

This bothersome hallucination had begun to rub Dust’s temper in the wrong way. This had to be the dictionary-accurate definition of the term ‘abuse’, right?

“The world you’re supposed to protect lies in ruins,” said The Phantom. “The Celestial Calamity opened the floodgates. The Dead! The Damned! The Hollow! They overrun the humans with their great power! And those vile humans make it worse by preying upon the weak!”

Avoiding eye contact, Dust said, “C’mon, you know I’ve only heard about it second hand. Neither of us have seen it for ourselves.”

“That bald, skinny girl. The former owner of that baseball cap. She was deathly ill, left untreated in the chaos. Travelled all the way to you, to her hero, begging you to take her life.”

“Stop.”

“But you didn’t. At least not right away. You waited until she fell sick before taking her life. Kept her around to hear stories about the outside world. Except you didn’t like what you heard, did you? Not at all! To think all your efforts were in vain.”

“Enough!” Defiant, Dust put the cap on his own skull. “Do whatever you want. I don’t need sleep anyway.”

“Coward.” Having dished out his accusation, The Phantom vanished in a wispy puff of smoke.

Alone, Dust felt his bones rattle. He couldn’t stop shaking. Anger? Grief? Bitterness? Guilt? He couldn’t tell the difference. Yet, they still hurt so, so much.

Normally, he could hold his composure. But not today. Not tonight. It was February 10th after all: Papyrus’ death anniversary.

Breathe in, breathe out. Despite his efforts, he failed to calm down.

“I… need a smoke.”

But the previous owner of the black cap hated smoking. She said cigarettes would kill her lungs and her dream. It would be a disgrace to the girl’s memory if he smoked while wearing that.

“No, I’ll drink instead. Save the smoking for tomorrow.”

Dust reached for a bottle of brandy on the shelf. Another salvage from the dead. They don’t need their booze anymore.

He sat outside on the front porch and took a few swigs. One swig. Two swigs. It was tempting to chug it down, but he wanted to make it last for as long as possible.

Looking up towards the sparkling night sky, Dust started his soliloquy. 

“Hey Papyrus, if you’ve ascended to heaven somewhere, stay there. Don’t come back. The world went down the gutter. From what I understand at least.”

“This divine comedy is getting longer and longer, and it’s wearing out its welcome. Can you believe what they’re calling me out there? Dust, The Lone Defender, like I’m some badass angsty hero. A hero! God, that’s the least worthy title I can ever hold.”

“If this was the old, peaceful world they would have called me by the right title: ‘Dust, The Mad Murderer’. I’m at least half-insane, and I have a mountain of corpses under my name. Now that’s what I call ‘objective truth’.”

“You told me to protect and love the world in your stead. Unfortunately, I ain’t you. Really. I wanted to say ‘fuck it all’ so many times, if you get what I mean. What am I protecting? How am I going to love? Everything and everyone that I ever cared about is gone.”

“Did you know what I told those scumbags who begged me for mercy? ‘My brother didn’t sacrifice his life for you to turn this world into a living hell.’ And then they became a bunch of unrecognisable stains on the floor.”

“I… don’t see any beauty or meaning to life. You know me, the nihilist. More now than never. What am I fighting for, Papyrus? What am I fighting for? I ask myself this, and yet I refuse to stop. I can’t give up. There’s nowhere else to go, and nothing else to do.”

“Papyrus? I’m scared. Sacred of your memory fading away, replaced by a twisted impostor. I’m the only one left who knew who you were. I… don’t want you to completely die.”

“So please… show me a sign. Any sign. What am I supposed to do? All I’ve done so far is ‘Persevere’. Keeping true to your final request is my sole purpose for existence.”

Dust had reached the point where his cognitive senses were drowned away in alcohol. He broke down weeping and tired, without a brave or comedic front to hide behind. Everything that he had kept inside for the past five years flowed out like the brandy in his hand.


End file.
